Ultima X The Rise of Angus
by Nobadore
Summary: events outside of Britannia, following the silly end of Ultima 9
1. In the Labyrinth of Worlds

The voices ended. The void embraced a figure, made pure and stable, whole again. This figure was of two parts which had at long last found each other, and no clear victor had been decided. Indeed, very little had been accomplished ever since its creation. "But wait!" thought the form. "I was human! Lord British did not create me, I was born of Earth!" "No," responded another part of the same being. "We were always here. Lord British sought to summon thee, and so thou camest to his aide." There was a pause, in which the void's sparkling contents circulated once through the ether. A distant gazer grumbled at the disturbing noises. "What of my family? Were those memories an illusion brought forth from the void? Or do they contain some bitter truth?" The Avatar asked desperately. "Reality has been altered. Thy existence is no longer remembered, on Earth," it replied. A long moment passed as he reflected upon this. "And so the story ends?" asked the Avatar morosely. "We were once bound to each other, a neutral force of the void, until that fatal day British separated us. Now I must contain thee for eternity, if only to prevent more destruction." "INCORRECT," the Guardian stated solidly. "Thou havest two other choices. Either bind our two minds together, so that we are completely as one, or re-manifest thyself upon another world. That would free me, of course." "And that is no choice. Thus, thou hast given to me the only course of action which shall, perchance, end happily." "Then make it, Avatar. End all contact with everyone thou ever knewest. Thy identity shall vanish forever into the void as this form possesses a whole new mind. one which is as empty and innocent as a newborn child." "Better that than to wrestle with thee for eternity, even as I dost now. Let it be done!"  
  
Suddenly there was a bitter silence. Normally one could hear the perpetual resonance of magic as it floated through the ether, linking connections throughout the universe. But for a few eternal moments, the void became darker than it had been for over a millennia, and all reality was shrinking in significance to encompass a mere, single point of light. It quivered gently, though one could tell it held a great potential.  
  
Back in Britannia, a mage attempted to cast a simple ignite spell. His efforts yielded a black, inky cloud of ethereal residue.  
  
Meanwhile, the point of light was quivering with a rapidly increasing frequency. Soon it began to shudder violently, all the time absorbing more and more magic, until at last it could not take the strain and faded into reality. And as it did so, there occurred a rupture-whether by some other dark power or through chance alone-and the light broke into a thousand individual particles, each scattering throughout the void. In its wake flew a last fragment which still contained the bulk of the original mass, and it was just this piece which materialized safely on a world with ethereal connections. It was here that the Avatar woke up, immediately realizing that something had gone wrong, and that the Guardian was lost to him again-strewn in fragments across the void. Though what this meant, however, he had no idea. 


	2. A Piece Remaining

The room was completely dark, and only the thick scent of dust and mold told the Avatar that he was most likely inside a cellar. A small squeak told him that some things would never change. The ether was strong, here. On his way in, he had felt several streams of power coursing through the void, and this place lay somewhere in between . but what had happened to the Guardian?  
  
He was destroyed. . . broken into shards. . . just like the crystal of immortality. Has he escaped. . .!? . . .Shall he be remade in some new form?  
  
No. But I am still a part of thee, whether I am in pieces or whole.  
  
The Avatar blinked, for the voice had echoed inside his mind.  
  
What hath occurred? Am I not in control of this vessel? Where is thine?  
  
The ether is an intricate web. The strands of energy weave together all the realities, energies, and times into a corresponding fashion. It has never been in danger of unraveling. There were times that its raw chaotic power may have overflowed into a particular world and so destroyed it utterly. . . but the ether itself was never at risk.  
  
It is now?  
  
Neither was it a tool to be corrupted. But I felt a power just now, that struck me. some great missile that was sent with this intention. It broke me.  
  
Broke you into what?  
  
What power I had is gone, and what memory I had resides in thee.  
  
So the merging was not altogether complete. And now thou art a demon within, just like Arcadion. But what of thy body, and the shrapnel it released?  
  
As the exodus of a handful's sand into a dust storm, most likely;  
twill have no lasting effect.  
  
I do not believe you. There were streams of ether. . . they could have carried the sand into this place, as they did my self. They could cause damage.  
  
Then see for thyself. There is always a way.  
  
The Avatar stood quickly and moved toward the only doorway in the dank room. The door was locked, but the structure was so old he was able to tear off pieces of wood in solid chunks. It finally gave way to a forbidding hall, lit by a well-tended brazier.  
As he moved stealthily along the corridor, the ceiling steadily became higher and higher. After winding along for several hundred meters, the hallway ended at exactly the same moment the ceiling went out of sight. Fortunately, the final wall contained indentations which would presumably work as crude ladder-rungs. The Avatar began to climb. The crumbling mortar was in slight disrepair, but navigable. After five rungs he could already see the opening to the next floor.  
  
Wait. . .  
  
He paused, listening tensely. Indeed, there was the sound of laborious breathing above his head. The noises sounded very much like some form of demon; so animal-like in nature they were.  
  
"What place is this?"  
  
The cellar of a mage, most likely. They often use impractical architecture and hire peculiar body-guards.  
  
He cautiously continued moving upwards, until he noticed the segmented body of an enormous muckworm. But as he followed its corpulent form his sight encompassed the head, which bloated out and about into a cancerous mass of tentacles. The thin ones were squirming like black oily snakes, while some were thick and porous and excreted a hideous chunky ooze, and others still were barbed with teeth so sharp that the others nearby were bubbling yellow puss from recent wounds. It was quite easily the most disgusting thing he'd ever seen.  
It had no eyes, and apparently couldn't discern his presence. . . as of yet. But the monstrosity was so completely unlike anything he'd ever seen before. . . it was plain frightening.  
  
This being was not born of the void. Where did it come from?  
  
The owner of this place would know. Perhaps thou shouldst ask him.  
  
The curled-up worm occupied nearly the entire breadth of the tunnel which the Avatar had just climbed into. He would either have to squeeze by its massive body or go back down the ladder. But he had a nasty suspicion that if he touched its slimy skin, the worm would roll over and crush him. The broken tiles on the floor seemed to indicate just how heavy the monstrosity was.  
  
It is most odd that events should arrange themselves thus. One obstacle after another. . . the endless game. 


	3. The Game's Afoot

The worm's hide expanded and contracted in the slow movement of its breath.  
  
If it is indeed a game, then I have broken the rules. The intruder is supposed to approach from the opposite direction.  
  
The Avatar sidled up carefully and examined the carapace. There were reddened warts and large white blotches, as though its entire body was an extension of diseased human skin. Thick bristles emerged from between each segment. They would twitch with every breath.  
  
Perhaps the intruder was never meant to catch so long a glimpse. for though being a host of disease is a source and means of isolation, such a weapon has two edges. Methinks it a most unstable concoction.  
  
Thy intention? the Guardian inquired.  
  
To taste its blood.  
  
He bent down and searched for a particularly jagged piece of debris. Unfortunately, the rubble had split into a rather fine gravel, and the few bigger pieces were not of a threatening size. He settled for a bulky rock with one roughly-hewn side, and so hefted it.  
The worm breathed in, and he paused to follow its example. The hide expanded, and then he swung the object in a terrific arc, smashing it into an especially transparent blotch. Hchit. He immediately took several steps back to observe the reaction.  
Rather than piercing the skin, it had merely sunk through a gel-like surface and caused some more bubbling to occur. White fluid seeped out from around the puncture-wound and gushed down the creature's side. A gurgling sound became audible in a moment, after allowing for the nerves to send the pain to its poorly developed brain, and then the entire display of puss and bloated skin shifted to its side.  
As the creature attempted to move itself over, the thin membranous excuse for its skin strained too far under the heavy fluids inside. Cracks and tears began to appear all over its diseased surface, and a whole rainbow of vomit-like colors began to fountain out. Trapped pockets of foul-smelling gas escaped from the disturbed monster's internal chemistry and infected the air with their presence. It was literally a sack of chemicals that finally popped.  
Rather than deal with the fumes, not to mention the excruciating experience of wading through a virulent bath, the Avatar retired to the ladder and back to his original chamber. For some reason it had become a much more appealing location.  
  
So if thou art right, this is the closet someone set this. . . biological bomb-to guard, correct?  
  
If I am right.  
  
He approached one of the barrels and tapped the side with his foot. It sounded hollow. The other four echoed similarly.  
  
If only I had an instrument to broach the lids.  
  
It would not be wise to both slay the guard and steal his goods.  
  
If there was something within, but t'were nearly void of content. A peek within is my sole desire.  
  
Subside in thy futile practice and exit this place. Tis void of purpose. Twas an instrument of delay, in itself.  
  
No, but a game. The key to this puzzle lies in the circumstances.  
  
Then, pushing one of the barrels onto its side, the Avatar rolled it over to the ladder. Apparently the tunnel above had been sloping up, for the biological fluids were now dripping down onto the lower floor.  
  
You cannot mean to-  
  
He positioned the barrel directly beneath the makeshift waterfall. The slightly indented lid of the barrel collected the liquid into a little pool which quickly overflowed; but within moments the foul substance had burned holes through the wood and was filling the barrel from the inside. At this point he quickly moved it out of harm's way.  
Unfortunately, the contents seemed only to include some scarce remains of insect larvae.  
  
Reagents. Typical of a mage, one would suppose.  
  
Since thou hast satisfied thy curiosity, make haste from this place! Leave now.  
  
And leave the others unsolved? Come now, they shall come easily after the first. 


End file.
